The next morning, Abigail woke before sunrise.

She found the kitchen door open.

The lock hung broken from the frame.

She stopped.

A cold breeze moved through the room.

Inside, sacks of flour had been torn open.

Her spice jars lay shattered across the floor.

And on the table sat a single piece of paper.

Abigail picked it up.

Three words had been written across it in thick black ink.

GO BACK HOME.

Her fingers тιԍнтened around the paper.

Behind her, boots sounded on the porch.

She turned.

Caleb stood in the doorway.

His eyes moved from the broken jars to the flour scattered across the floor.

Then to the note in her hand.

“Who did this?”

Abigail said nothing.

Caleb stepped inside.

He crouched beside the overturned spice rack.

His fingers brushed the dust.

A boot print.

Fresh.

Large.

He looked toward the back door.

It stood open.

Caleb’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“No.”

He straightened.

“Wyatt?”

Abigail hesitated.

Caleb saw it.

“You think it was him.”

“I don’t know.”

Caleb walked toward the stove.

He stopped.

The stew pot from last night was still there.

Empty.

He touched the rim.

Then noticed something beneath the table.

A small leather pouch.

Caleb picked it up.

Abigail recognized it immediately.

It belonged to Wyatt.

She had seen him wearing it the previous day.

Caleb opened the pouch.

Inside were several strips of dried herbs.

Abigail stared.

“Those are mine.”

Caleb looked at her.

“Your herbs?”

She nodded.

“He stole them.”

Caleb’s expression hardened.

Then Abigail noticed something else.

A folded sheet of paper beneath the herbs.

Caleb opened it.

It was a list.

Names.

Numbers.

Amounts of money.

At the bottom was one name written twice.

Harrison Caldwell.

Abigail’s breath caught.

“What is that?”

Caleb didn’t answer.

He read the list again.

His face had changed.

The suspicion in his eyes was gone.

Something colder had replaced it.

Fear.

“Mr. Reynolds?”

Caleb folded the paper and slipped it into his coat.

“You didn’t see this.”

Abigail stared at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“What’s happening here?”

Caleb looked toward the ranch house.

“Harrison isn’t in Austin just trying to save the ranch.”

A horse screamed in the distance.

Both of them turned.

A rider was approaching at full speed.

Caleb stepped onto the porch.

The rider pulled hard on the reins.

“Caleb!”

“What happened?”

The man was gasping.

“Bank refused the extension.”

Caleb’s face went still.

“And?”

The rider swallowed.

“They’re coming for the ranch.”

Abigail stepped into the doorway.

“Who?”

The rider looked at her.

“Men from the bank.”

Caleb stared toward the distant road.

Dust was already rising on the horizon.

A long line of riders.

Too many for a simple debt collection.

Caleb reached for his rifle.

“Get every man inside.”

Abigail’s heart began pounding.

The ranch wasn’t being threatened by hunger anymore.

Someone wanted it gone.

And judging by the riders coming over the ridge—

they had decided tonight was the night.